


i don't wanna dance, if i'm not dancing with you

by intersectts



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Romance, just wanted to write them in da club, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 03:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intersectts/pseuds/intersectts
Summary: “I don’t dance, but here I am spinning you round and round in circles…” Donna and Harvey dance throughout the years..
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	i don't wanna dance, if i'm not dancing with you

**Author's Note:**

> I primarily wrote this because I couldn't stop thinking about the in the club lol. In my head, the timeline of the fic goes: DA's office - Pearson Hardman - random early season - season 7 - season 8 - post-show

i don’t wanna dance, if i’m not dancing with you

* * *

  
  


i.

The first time they dance together, they’re out with some of the other attorneys and secretaries from the DA’s office. They don’t make it a habit to socialise outside of work with their colleagues, but a handful of pre-selected ‘ _good ones’,_ as Donna had referred to them, had invited them out for drinks. Donna had fluttered her eyelids and sent Harvey a dazzling smile as she begged him to go out with them that evening. 

_“But just so you know, I don’t dance…”_ Harvey remembers himself saying when he’d agreed to her relentless requests. Donna had only winked and said ‘we’ll see’, before changing the conversation. Now they’re there, he’s having a pretty good time, the alcohol flowing, conversation easy, women everywhere. 

Though, he’ll never admit this, but his eyes have been drawn to just one woman that evening, the redhead he’d been sitting beside all evening, who’s currently dancing with the other secretaries in the middle of the dancefloor. She’s magnificent. And it’s not her body that’s kept his eyes glued on her all evening - though he definitely has looked at the way her hips have swayed and gyrated along to the beat - it’s her smile, brighter than the striking lights of the club and her eyes, wide and free-spirited. It’s dazzling and captivating, her, _happy_ and carefree. 

Harvey knows he’s not the only one who’s been watching her, naturally she’s captured the attention of quite a few other men in the club. For the most part, Donna’s skillfully dodged their advances, either sidestepping them before their hands had touched her waist, or sending them a sharp warning - _back off._ But this one guy, he just keeps coming back and ignoring her advances. No matter how many looks she sends or how many times the other secretaries pull her to them, he finds her. His grip on his beer bottle tightens as he watches the man slide up behind her, again, with slimy hands pawing at her waist.

Donna’s eyes meet Harvey’s only ever so briefly, not even for a second but it’s enough to launch Harvey from his seat, pushing and squeezing between the throes of bodies on the dancefloor. Grasping the guy’s shoulder, Harvey sends him away with a stern expression and jerk of his head. He’s about to return to the table when Donna stops moving, glancing over her shoulder, sending him a smile in thanks that looks more like an invitation to join her than anything else. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see another man circling them, eyeing Donna yet again and calculating his next opportunity to strike. And like hell if Harvey will give him one. Reaching out and grasping Donna’s hips, he drags her back into his front and the two begin moving in tandem to the loud, repetitive beat of the music.

Donna doesn’t make any sign that she’s uncomfortable with his presence and, had he not been watching her all evening, he’d not know her body was moving even more loosely and freely to the music, whilst in his embrace. Harvey tells himself it’s the alcohol running through their veins that see their bodies gyrating and grinding against each other. He tells himself he’s holding her close to protect her from the sleazy men lined up to take his place, those who’d be more precarious with her body - and heart - than he would ever be. 

He ignores the burning feeling building up inside of him, pretending to not hear her breathlessly murmur his name with every gyration. For if he did, if _they_ did, ever acknowledge the electricity between them, it would spread like wildfire, completely overwhelming and consuming in its power that their bodies would be scarred and burnt with the imprint of the other. Untouchable for all others. Marked. He keeps his hands gripped on her hips, keeping her in place, for if she were to turn around, he wouldn’t be able to _not_ kiss her, draw her even closer and be nothing but consumed by her. And _that_ would be crossing a line, this Harvey supposes, is just blurring it a little.

They seem to move together for hours, refusing to leave the dancefloor or each other and return to a reality where they’re boss and subordinate and not two almost lovers meeting in the darkness of the night. Harvey’s caught their colleagues eyes a few times, ignoring their suggestive glances and smirks as he holds Donna close to him. 

When they return to the table not too long later, they both ignore Bertha’s suggestive look, the waggling eyebrows and the hushed tones. They ignore anything ever happened on the floor between them except for the fact that Harvey keeps his hand on her thigh for the rest of the evening, telling himself he’s doing it to protect her, to ward off the unwanted attention not because now he’s had the physical connection, he wants more _._

It’s only a few weeks later that their bodies find each other again and instead of dancing to the loud beat of club music, they move to the sounds of their moans and groans, of giggles and whispers of encouragement and the rustling of sheets.

And then a week later, they don’t mention any of it again. But neither forget.

  
  


ii.

The next time they dance, they’ve been at Pearson Hardman for several months and Donna realises it’s the first time they’ve been in each other’s arms since the other time. When Harvey’s hand meets the exposed skin of her back, she shivers, cursing herself for wearing a backless dress and not foreseeing this exact situation. 

“Everything okay?” Harvey asks softly, eyes searching hers having caught her shiver.

“Yeah just…” Donna pauses, realising that perhaps her subconscious _had_ foreseen this particular action, “Cold hand.”

She looks away, not before she sees his jaw clench slightly and not before her eyes follow his slow gulp. Donna doesn’t look back again for some time, not when he presses her slightly closer into him, not even when his hand slips lower down her back, resting just above the curse of her ass. She wanders if Harvey knows what he’s doing, his hand slipping lower intentionally, or if it’s moving on its own accord, living through a memory. The same memory she’s in now, when his hand slipped even lower, between her legs, only being replaced by his mouth. She covers the moan that escapes her lips with a cough, hoping Harvey hadn’t heard it and he doesn’t make any indication he has.

Donna glances around to see if anyone is watching them, of course, no one is. When they’d first turned up at the firm, everyone had assumptions about them. She’d heard the rumours, about why he’s the only one with a secretary and how she does more than copy files, type emails and organise his day for him. It had only taken a week for her to dispel those, proving her abilities as a working professional who didn’t need to sleep with her boss to keep her position. She supposes, it had also helped that Harvey had turned up to several work functions with a different woman on each arm at every event.

“You think you’ll be able to find another dancer partner for the rest of the evening?” Harvey’s voice cuts through her thoughts like a knife to a cake. Her head snaps back and her eyes meet his, following them as they travel to the side and she notices a leggy blonde leaning against the bar.

“Oh I’m sure I’ll find someone who _doesn’t_ have two left feet!” She retorts, a teasing smirk dancing across her mouth and eyes. Harvey throws his head back, giving her back one last squeeze before heading off in the direction of the bar.

Harvey doesn’t look back, if he did, he’d see her longing gaze watch him walk away. Their paths don’t cross again for the rest of the evening, so Harvey doesn’t see that Donna doesn’t find another dance partner, he leaves with the leggy blonde not knowing Donna doesn’t dance again with anyone else after him. 

And though she saw him leave with someone else, she knows he didn’t dance with anyone else that evening either.

  
  


iii.

It’s another work function, that Harvey welcomes Donna into his arms again. Though he hates attending these black-tie galas, a small part of him craves them, if only for the small chance his hands will have the opportunity to hold Donna’s, to pull her close against his body.

Harvey remembers that time all those years ago, when he’d told Donna that he didn’t dance, but then spent the night pressing her body against his. The memory of that night etched in his brain like the next time he’d held her in his arms, except then, their soft, sweaty skin moved against one another as they connected on a physical level. He’s never craved dancing with anyone, not wanting the intimacy, the feeling of another body pressed against his, so close he could count eyelashes and feel the beat of another’s heart against his chest. Being so close that with the right partner, two heartbeats could sync and become one. He thinks he’s never craved that, until he met Donna. And since the other time, he knows dancing with her is the closest he’ll ever get to holding her like _that_ again.

As he watches Donna tentatively place her hand in his, watches as her breath hitches as his hand finds her waist and pulls her closer into his body.

“You okay?” He hears himself ask, gulping as her eyes look up and meet his. There’s something in them and he wonders if she too feels something, being in his arms. If she too craves to hold him like he does her, just to be as close as they can get without breaking her rule.

“Yeah… it’s just been awhile since I danced.” Donna replies softly, turning her head away from his to look over his shoulder. 

“Me too.” Harvey answers, mouth dry as Donna’s hand moves from his shoulder, ever so briefly, to cup the back of his neck.

The slight action, whether intentional or not, sends him back to all those years ago. When she cupped the back of his neck for a different reason, to hold the back of his neck firmly to her as their lips battled for dominance. He can’t help but be drawn back into the memory, it so vivid and real in his mind like she is in his arms right now. He twirls her around, watching as a smile lights up her face and listening for her laugh, a sound more beautiful than either Mozart or Beethoven could have ever composed. And then he remembers that night, the other time, where that laugh had descended into giggles, which had then transformed into low, breathy moans and groans as he lapped up whipped cream from her body.

“Ow..” 

Harvey’s brought back to the present at Donna’s exclamation and he drops her hands, bringing them to a standstill as he realises he'd stepped on her foot.

“Donna, I’m sorry… my mind was…” He trails off, not wanting to explain where his mind had wondered. Donna doesn’t press either, either knowing the real reason or not caring enough to press.

“Don’t worry about it Harvey,” she flashes him a smile, “The song’s over anyway…”

Harvey just nods in response and watches her walk away from him, heading to the bar. He watches as a man approaches her, he watches as she throws her head back laughing the same she’d just done when he’d twirled her around his fingers. And when he watches the two of them leave, he wishes the song had never ended because he hadn’t been ready to let her go.

And when he watches the two of them leave, the familiar itch in his hands returns. Itching to hold not just anyone, but _her_ and her alone. As he sits in the back of his car, alone, he knows he’s always going to be bothered when Donna’s not in his arms, because he knows it means she’s in someone else’s. 

  
  


iv.

Donna feels like she’s been in the ballroom for hours, but in reality it’s just been one. One tortuous, slow hour where not even the lure of free alcohol can tempt a real smile on her face. She’s flashed Louis a fake one, of course, one she knows he can see right through. But thankfully, he doesn’t call her out on it. He doesn’t even call her out when she snaps at him, annoyed at his incessant talking and attempts to cajole a conversation out of her.

“Sorry Louis…” She offers meekly, meeting his eyes briefly, not wanting to see the sadness in them that not even she can hide.

“Don’t worry about it, Donna, I’ll go get us some more drinks.” Louis nods, squeezing her shoulder before leaving her alone at the table.

Donna lets out a low, long sigh, refraining the urge to run a hand through her hair. The truth is, she’d been excited about attending this event ever since Louis had invited her. After Harvey had initially chosen Paula, arranging with Stu Buzzini to off her a job, she felt unwanted, a pawn that could be moved easily between two kings and a queen. When Louis had asked her to attend the fundraiser with him, she’d felt wanted, that she was someone’s first choice. Even though Harvey had eventually chosen her, the initial sting from his act of betrayal had burned her. So she got herself a new dress, a dark, emerald green number, paired it with a new pair of Louboutin’s and found some pearl earrings and twirled in front of her mirror. 

But as soon as they’d stepped out of the car, Donna had felt an uneasiness inside of her which only grew when they entered the ballroom. And it grew when Harvey had entered, when her eyes had been drawn to the entrance when Harvey had walked in, wearing a form-fitting tux. Her heart had stopped when her eyes scanned his sides, looking for someone else to be at the end of them. But he had arrived alone, alone like she felt even when Louis had been at her side.

So she sits alone, calculating the best route she can take out of the ballroom to minimise the chances of running into anyone she knows, and thinking of an excuse to give Louis for her early departure. 

Across the room, Louis had been formulating his own plan.

“Harvey,” Louis taps his shoulder, forcing the other man to turn.

“Yes Louis?” Harvey replies, a stern expression on his face.

Louis breathes in deeply, though he and Harvey were no longer at each other’s throats like they were back when they were associates, he still didn’t enjoy asking him for favours. Especially when he knows Harvey had done something to Donna.

“Listen Harvey, I don’t know what went down between you and Donna, and frankly, I don’t care. But that woman is usually an absolutely radiant, brilliant woman and she’s here now, looking _stunning,_ and I haven’t managed to get a smile out of her all evening…”

Harvey’s jaw clenches ever so slightly, as his eyes involuntarily scan the room, seeking out Donna’s form. He finds her immediately, sitting alone at a table, looking forlorn and lost and anything but the radiant redhead who’s stood by his side for the better part of twelve years.

“She’s sad Harvey, and it pains me to say this because I think you’re the one who caused that sadness, but I think the only person who would make her feel better is you. So please Harvey, you know I hate asking you this, but please, talk to her.”

“I’m not doing this for you, Louis…”

“I’d be offended if you did, we both know Donna is more important than both of us combined.” Louis says quickly, giving the other man one final nod before walking quickly away.

Harvey pauses, only for a minute, before he finds himself walking in her direction. As he gets closer, his breath catches in his throat because Louis was right, she’s brilliant and radiant but her eyes are so sad and she looks so alone, it unnerves him how out-of-character it is for her. He comes to a stop beside her and she looks up at the same time.

“Dance with me?” Harvey asks softly, offering his hand.

Donna looks up, eyes curious and suspicious at the proffered hand and its owner. It’s not just because they haven’t danced in years, boyfriends and girlfriends causing rifts between them. It’s because they haven’t spoken much, not since Harvey had turned up at her door and ripped up her resignation letter, choosing her. It’s not like she thought they’d go back to being them, not after the kiss and everything that happened in between, but the silence and distance has been torture.

“We don’t have to do this…” Donna replies sadly, still standing and placing her hand in his as he slowly leads them onto the dance floor.

“We don’t,” He says, placing a hand on her waist as she tentatively brings a hand to rest on his shoulder, “But I want us to.”

No words are exchanged between them as they sway to a few more songs but whatever tension there was, dissipates when the two move off the dancefloor.

“Thank you Harvey, for the dances…” Donna offers him a small smile, a real one that just about reaches her eyes.

When Donna leaves the ballroom that evening, she catches Harvey’s gaze following her out and once she’s alone, her smile grows wider. Because she hasn’t danced in years and being back in Harvey’s arms, after _everything,_ it felt right.

v.

A couple months later, Harvey and Donna find themselves drinking and listening to his father’s records late Friday evening in his office. It’s been awhile since they’ve done this, pass cartons of Chinese between them, drink scotch and discuss everything but anything that really matters between them.

Donna’s on the couch, heels kicked off under the table, with one leg tucked underneath her as the other rests on the coffee table. She’s crossed the precipice from happy tipsy to sleepy tipsy, laid back among the couch cushions with a near-empty glass cradled to her chest. Harvey can’t help but look at her and think how comfortable she looks and his heart skips a beat.

When she carelessly attempts to put the glass back on the table, he thinks it’s time to call it a night and get out of there.

“Let’s get you home…” He stands, sticking out his hand to her to take. She cracks open an eye as she studies his hand curiously.

“I’m not sleeping…” She reaches a hand to his, missing a few times before Harvey makes a move, grabbing it and pulling her up and into him. He’s missed this side of her, one he hasn’t had the luxury of seeing for a very long term. Her, carefree, unguarded. Happy. Harvey can’t help his softer smile as he takes her in, grabbing her hands and gently pulling her into him.

He hadn’t realised his strength and her precarious state, as within seconds the stumbling, giggling redhead is in his arms. He’s about to release her when she straightens, looking directly into his eyes.

“Dance with me?”

Harvey had been so absorbed by her presence, taking in her laugh and soft words, that he’d forgotten they’d been playing some of his father’s music. He knows he’d do anything for her, saying no right now would be a crime. So he rearranges his arms so one is wrapped around her waist, holding her gently to him and the other holds her hand, right above his heart.

“This isn’t dancing, you know...” He says after a few moments of swaying from side to side. They’ve barely moved far, not with him supporting nearly all her weight in his arms. Harvey laughs quietly as he feels Donna mumble something into his shoulder and cranes his head back to look down at her.

“I can’t hear you…”

Donna can pull back and her eyes are glazed and Harvey knows he won’t have her awake for much longer.

“I said,” She pauses with a dreamy look on her face, sobering up ever so slightly when her eyes meet his, “This is nice, dancing or not…”

Harvey doesn’t think she’ll remember she said it, not when he drops her off at home and she’s out like a light before her head even hits the pillow. Not when her phone illuminates on her bedside table, the name Thomas flashing up and giving Harvey that sinking feeling that perhaps she’s found another dance partner. 

But as he quietly leaves her apartment, his eyes are drawn to a framed photo of the two of them, a beautiful candid, black and white shot of them dancing together many years ago. And he thinks that maybe, just maybe they still have a chance, that their song hasn’t played yet and they still have time.

  
  


vi.

It’s a year later, they’re on a different coast but together and everything is different between them, but nothing has really changed. They walk, hands clasped together, along the softly-lit waterfront on the way back from dinner. Harvey smiles as they pass a busker, who notices their clasped hands and soft smiles and begins playing a softer melody.

Smiling, Harvey gently pulls Donna back, letting go of one of her hands and spinning her around. He pulls her close when she starts laughing and loops her arms around his neck, hands clasped together at the base of his head.

“You’re an idiot…” She laughs as he continues to sway them in the moonlight, the busker smiling as he watches the couple dance before him.

Harvey spins her around once more before capturing her lips in a kiss.Pulling back, Donna steps back, extending a hand.

“Harvey, let’s continue this at _home…_ ”

  
  
  


_Tonight I’m gonna dance, for all that we’ve been through_

_But I don’t wanna dance, if I’m not dancing with you.._

  
  



End file.
